


Gawain Vs Life

by ToothPasteCanyon (DannyFenton123)



Category: Arthurian Mythology
Genre: I wrote this literally in 3 hours, coffee shop AU but I don't actually know what a coffee shop AU is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-21
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:14:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26574316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyFenton123/pseuds/ToothPasteCanyon
Summary: A coffee shop au arthuriana fic by someone not entirely clear on coffee shop aus or arthuriana. Look guys my canon knowledge comes from wikipedia and Monty Python so please expect nothing. Happy birthday gawain_in_green <3
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5





	Gawain Vs Life

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Reynier](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reynier/gifts).



Gawain was a normal guy. He was majoring in history, but he wasn’t really sold on the program. He worked in a coffee shop, and his friends often came by - ostensibly to study, but mostly to muck around and make his boss suspicious of him. He also liked… shit, music? He didn’t have a whole lot going on with his life right now, okay?

It’s an ordinary Friday afternoon at the coffee shop. His boss is out, so he’s sweeping around his friend’s corner a little more often than usual.

“Hey, Percy,” Arthur’s lounging on the couch with a black coffee he hasn’t taken a sip from in twenty minutes. “That’s a nice red shirt you’ve got there.”

“Oh, thanks! I got it from some guy.”

Gawain frowns. “What do you mean? Is it like a hand-me-down, or…?”

“No, no. Some guy stole my water bottle, so I tracked him down and killed him.”

“Wh… what?”

“He had really nice clothes, though, so I was like, hey, finders keepers!” He stood up. “He had really nice red pants, too.”

Lancelot nods. “Yeah, those are sweet pants.”

“Wait, you didn’t kill him, though.” Gawain gives a laugh. “You’re joking. Yeah, you’re joking.”

“No, I did kill him.”

“You…”

“Oh, shit, Arthur, was the English paper due yesterday?”

The conversation moves on, leaving Gawain stuck wondering whether he’s thinking too hard about some kind of absurdist joke. He tries not to stare too hard at the red shirt; he keeps sweeping.

The entrance bell rings. The door’s shoved open so hard it crashes against the the wall, and a man in an entirely green tank top bellows out “I HAVE COME TO PLAY A GAME!”

Gawain sees the axe in his hand and starts backing towards the phone.

“Hey!” The man points the axe at him and he eeps. “You, what’s your name?”

“Uh, please leave!”

“Not until I have my challenge! Do any of you cowards dare to take my axe and cut off my head?”

Arthur frowns. “Hmm, what’s the catch?”

“Who cares? What the fuck?” Gawain picked up the phone. “Hello, police?”

“The catch is, he who takes my challenge must let me return the blow in a year from now!” He grins. “I’ll let you keep the axe, too. It’s a pretty sweet deal.”

“Oh, nice. Any takers?”

_ “Arthur!” _ Gawain makes a frantic cut-it-out gesture.  _ “What are you doing!” _

“What? I’ll do it if no one else wants to!”

“What are you even- no! Don’t do that!”

“Do you want to do it?”

“Wh-”

The man points his axe at Gawain. “We have a challenger!”

“What? No! No, I-”

“Hell yeah, go Gawain!” His friends start clapping. “Kick his butt, dude!”

“No, I don’t want to-”

“Ga-wain! Ga-wain! Ga-wain!”

Gawain shrank back as the man walks up to him, brandishing his axe. He offers it, handle out, to Gawain, who just stands there frozen.

“What the fuck is going on…” he starts, and looks around. “Is there, like, a carbon monoxide leak, or…?”

“It is time.” The man kneels down, and parts his hair. “Strike your blow, knight!”

“What? No, I’m not - I’m not  _ cutting your head off-” _

“Aww.”

“I’m not! I, uh… I…” He backs away, eyes flitting around the room for something else, something else; they land on a coffee pot. “I could make you some coffee?”

“Coffee?”

“Yeah!” Gawain darts behind the counter and starts brewing the pot. “On the house, dude, that sounds way better than, uh, getting all choppy with each other. Here you go!”

He quickly splashes some coffee into a cup and shoves it into the man’s hands. He watches the man take a sip, and then make a face.

“Uh… you good now?”

“What was your name, young knight?”

“Um, it’s Gawain.”

“Sir Gawain.” The man pauses for a second. “This coffee is horrible.”

“Oh. Sorry?”

“How long did you leave this boiling for? Eugh, it’s burnt as hell.” He sniffs it, then wrinkles his nose.  _ “Eugh. _ I’d rather have gotten my head cut off. This was a mighty blow you have struck me indeed!”

“What?”

“Know this!” The man smashes the cup on the floor and starts backing away. “One year and a day from now, you must come to my house and let me return the blow! You just wait, Sir Gawain, I’ll brew the worst coffee you’ve ever tasted in your whole life!”

“What? I don’t even know where you live!”

“I’ll text Arthur the address!” He opens the door, and stabs a finger at Gawain. “One year and a day, young knight! Mark my words: you will come, or you will be called such a buzzkill in English 101!”

“Yup.” Arthur says.

The man slams the door, and all Gawain’s friends go back to talking like nothing is wrong. Gawain just stares at the scene for a moment; stares down at the smashed cup on the floor, and the coffee dripping off the edge of the axe.

He… he needs to take a minute.

He sits down with his friends, but unfortunately he sat in Galahad’s seat and catches fire and dies instantly. The end.


End file.
